Amir wakes up. There's a second of disorientation before the pinch of a needle in his hand and the slightly sterile scent of the air grounds him, he's spent enough time in hospitals to recognize the smell. He stays still a moment longer, scoping out the room. He can sense the presence of someone sitting near him but keeps his eyes shut, trying to piece together the time between the desert and here. It's confusing and disjointed, memory slipping between dreams and reality. He remembers the feeling of green felt pressed against his cheek and sand shifting under his bare feet and hands wrapped around his shoulders and hands dragging him into the jeep and the dark fetid heat of a windowless cell and harsh voices that keep asking him the same questions he knows he can't answer and he remembers the fear the fear the fear-

"I know you're awake."

Says a dry voice from his right. He nearly startles, mind abruptly drawn back to the present. To the scent of purell and the feeling of over-stiff sheets under his arms and the low hum of machines from beside his bed. It's cool here, AC whirring somewhere nearby. Cracking his eyes open slowly, he winces against the bright light of the hospital room. Top is sitting beside his bed, one leg crossed ankle to knee over the other, and a clipboard of paperwork in his hand. He seems tired, but smiles when he sees Amir looking at him.

"Welcome back."

He offers quietly, setting the clipboard aside. Amir just watches him, careful, and waits for him to make the first move. Top sniffs, running a hand through his beard, and sits forward a little in his chair.

"How are you feeling?"

Amir's felt worse and he's also felt better. Pain and discomfort stopped meaning the same thing they used to a long time ago, just the body's mechanism to remind you that you're alive. And he is alive, and that's more then he'd thought he'd be. Instead of answering he shrugs one shouldered and winces when something pulls uncomfortably. Top frowns, leaning towards the call button on the wall.

"Hey, take it easy alright? The nurse can get more pain meds if you're uncomfortable."

"No!"

Amir says sharply, and then hears the desperation in his voice and stops himself.

"No." He tries again, more calmly this time. "No more drugs, please."

Top pauses, fingers hanging in the air awkwardly for a second before he draws his hand back to his lap. There's something almost stricken to his face, but before Amir can decide if he's just seeing things or not it's gone. Top clears his throat a little uncomfortably.

"Alright, but just… take it easy. McG's going to kill me if you manage hurt yourself more on my watch."

"Okay,"

He replies quietly, leaning back into the vaguely uncomfortable pillows behind him. Top watches him carefully, like he's a feral cat or lost child. It makes him uneasy. He shifts a little in the bed, looks away.

"The chemical attack?"

He asks after a moment of tense silence.

"You got good intel, local PD arrested a few of Jebali's guys trying to plant a chem bomb at the train station."

Top says, still studying him. Amir nods, a tension he didn't realize he'd been holding flowing out of him like spilled wine. He takes a deep breath, feels it catch in his chest as he exhales.

"And Jebali?"

"He's in custody, special ops caught him trying to cross the border into Libya. Looks like he got spooked and tried to run."

Amir nods again. Top looks a little expectantly at him, like he's waiting for some sort of reaction. He supposes he should feel something, relief maybe. Vindication of some sort. When he looks inside of himself though he finds nothing, he feels hollowed out. He closes his eyes again, abstract flashes of red and yellow light dancing across the back of his lids. This is victory he thinks, but why does it taste so bitter?

He doesn't realize he's started to clutch at the sheets by his sides with tense fists till Top says his name and he starts, eyes flying open. From Top's tone it's not the first time either.

"Amir, hey, look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Amir turns towards him, not quite meeting his eyes. A little afraid of what he might find in them.

"Where'd you go man?"

Top asks. Amir starts to shrug again, then thinks better of it. Tries to rearrange his expression into something that approaches neutral and slowly forces his fingers to release the bed sheets.

"Nowhere."

He says finally, when he feels like he can talk without saying something hysterical and entirely inappropriate. Top frowns, edges of his mouth pulling down. Amir knows it isn't the answer he was looking for, but he's not sure how to give him the one he wants. There's silence for a long while, and finally Top sighs, scrubbing at his face with both hands.

"Jesus, you really don't make this easy do you… Look, you need to talk to someone, Amir. It doesn't have to be me, alright, it can be any of the team, or someone from your mosque, or we can get the base therapist to come by, but ya gotta talk to someone about this. I don't want to, but I will ground you if I have to, you understand?"

Amir just nods numbly, folding his hands neatly on his lap.

"I understand. If I am a liability to the team you have a duty to ensure the success of the mission."

Top frowns even harder, brow furrowing in dissatisfaction like Patton's ignored his command to sit, or McG's made a particularly off color joke.

"Christ, Amir, you're not a liability. You're a person who's been through some bad shit. There's no shame in that, but you can't just keep…dealing with it on your own like this."

"You say that like I had a choice. I have survived own my own for a long time now, Top."

Amir snaps, sharper then he meant too. The frustration drains out of Top's face and suddenly he just looks sad, for some reason it makes Amir's stomach turn. He didn't mean it like that.

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't have had too."

He says, softly, and there is regret and anger and guilt all mixed up in it. Amir tries to remember the last time someone had sounded like that on his behalf. Of course there had been counseling available when he was with the CIA, mandatory appointments with agency therapists and support groups and crisis numbers. It had made sense; a tool was only useful as long as it worked. If a tool broke you fixed it, and if it couldn't be fixed then you threw it away. It's just logical, after all. Amir had become very good at those mandatory appointments, at giving them the answer they were looking for, at being just vulnerable enough. That's the problem with spies, they're very good at lying. He doesn't know how to tell Top he thinks it's been to many years, too much weight. That there are some stains that can't be washed away, some hurts that just run too deep.

"It's alright," he says gently, like it can ease the blow. "It's just… how it is. It's no one's fault."

At that Top's mouth twists, like he's searching for the words and can't quite find them.

"You remember what I said to you in that gas station?"

He says, finally.

"You told me to stay."

Amir whispers.

"And you did Amir, but you gotta… you have to keep staying. Here. That place you keep going? You can't go there, it's just going to tear you to pieces."

Amir's mouth feels dry, dry like the desert. Dry like a summer in Lebanon, the dirt in the courtyard outside of his house rising in clouds with every step.

"I-I have nowhere to go but here."

And what he means is don't let me go, what he means is maybe someday this could be home.

"Amir." Top says, and there's something in his voice, a storm brewing there. "Look me in the eyes."

Amir does, slowly, haltingly, and waits for the storm to crash against the shores.

"Do you understand why this is important?"

Top asks, like the answer is easy. Like Amir should already know it, and he does.

"Because I am a tool, and when a tool breaks you fix it."

He recites, it's an old song and the words come familiar to his lips.

Top looks at him, serious and sad and angry and it makes him want to run, it makes him want to stay, it makes him hope for things he hadn't dared to want in so many years.

"Amir, you're not a tool, or a liability. You're part of a team. And that means your problems? They're our problems too. And I know everyone's got their own shit to carry, but we can at least help lighten the load. That's why it's important."

Top says it so simply, so easily. He says you're part of a team but they both know that's not quite what he means. And at first Amir recoils from the word he is not saying, at first it feels like a betrayal. To let them in to the parts of himself he had thought were only for her. The parts of himself that he had buried long ago, that had died amidst smoke and fire and the pieces of her too small to recognize. But then Amir thinks about how he knows both of Preach's daughter' favorite colors, and the name of the dog McG grew up with in Montana, and that Jaz hates cilantro with a burning passion. He thinks about how Preach sits with him in the mornings after he finishes his prayers, or how McG always manages to challenge him to a game of horseshoes when he starts to feel he is drowning in memory, or how sometimes on the nights he can't sleep he sits with Preach or Top more often then he sits alone. He thinks about Jaz's hand on his ankle, how he felt that even when he felt nothing else. And he thinks that, maybe, he understands what Top means. That maybe family isn't a decision, it's something that happens when you're not looking.

He's always wondered, when does it end? The guilt and the blame and the way it just eats away at you from the inside out, like a cancer or a parasite. Maybe, just maybe, it starts to end here. With a hand reaching out, and all he has to do is take it.

"I think," Amir says carefully, "I think I could learn how to share my burden."

And it's not exactly a yes, but it is a beginning. Top smiles, almost relieved, and leans back in his chair.

"Good, because I got three people breathing down my neck about this and trust me the last thing I need my whole team joining up to kick my ass."

Amir ducks his head, lets himself laugh. It feels foreign and a little cracked at the edges, but it sounds right.

"I think Jaz could do that all on her own."

Top huffs, looking weary and fond at the thought.

"Honestly that woman terrifies me sometimes…"

From outside in the hallway he can hear the sound of footsteps approaching, Jaz and McG arguing lightly about something too indistinct to make out. There's a undignified yelp quickly followed by Preach's deep comforting laughter. A second later McG nearly bursts through the door looking indignant.

"Top, Jaz says she threw away my shower sandals! This is a complete invasion of my privacy."

Jaz rolls her eyes as she and Preach enter a step behind McG.

"Those things were an invasion of everyone else's privacy if you ask me."

She mutters, loud enough for McG to hear. Preach tries to hide a chuckle behind a hand and fails. McG turns towards her, and as he does seems to notice Amir for the first time.

"Hey man, didn't realize you were up. How you feeling? You've been napping for a while now."

Amir's usual deflections spring to his lips and he opens his mouth, but pauses before he says anything. He thinks about Top, about his team, about learning to share the burden. He thinks that maybe it's time for something more sustainable then guilt and hurt and secrets that always seem to become something more.

"Honestly? I feel…tired. But with some time, I think I'm going to be alright."

McG grins, falling into a chair next to Top and crossing his arms behind his head, shower sandals already forgiven and forgotten.

"Of course you will, and we'll be with you every step of the way buddy."

"Yeah man, we're here for you."

Preach adds, dark eyes kind. And it sounds like a promise, sounds like a hand reaching out. Amir takes it.